Addled
by Aethyl
Summary: An entity takes something from Drusilla; she deals with it.
1. Addled

Addled by Aethyl **Addled**

by 

Aethyl 

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters, and I'm not making any money by "borrowing" them. 

Author's note: This story falls after "Into the Woods," but before "Crush."   


"It's all cockleshells and prickleburrs tonight, Miss Edith," the young woman was heard to say as she passed the sleeping figures in an alley. She was carefully stepping over broken bottles, and holding up her skirt in an attempt to navigate the piles of filth without getting the hem dirty. "Misery and despair, misery and despair, misery and despair--the clown doesn't want to dance with the girl." 

The "clown" was an old man wearing a torn yellow shirt and ratty red corduroy pants; he was holding a bottle of St. Pauly Girl to his lips, but was not drinking from it. His rheumy eyes were stuck to bleeding figure of another bum whose lifeless, bloody body hung over old packing cartons at an odd angle. Moments before, Charley and Bill had been talking about the good weather, keeping their voices low so as not to disturb their sleeping companions, and then a shadow had ripped Bill out of his comfortable perch on a relatively clean pile of trash bags, and flung him across the alley. The shadow turned into a woman with long dark hair in a long darkly colored dress with long sharp teeth which she sunk into Bill's neck. She hummed as she slurped noisily at the wound. Charley couldn't move. 

"Don't worry Mr. Clown," the young woman called over her shoulder, "Miss Edith isn't hungry tonight." She reached the end of the alley, turned the corner, and was gone. 

Charley was too frightened to notice that one of the other men skulked off after the strange, homicidal girl. 

*** 

Drusilla knew that she was being followed. She had a vision in her head of a hulking shadow, but she couldn't hear it, and when she turned her head, neither she or her precious Edith could see the source of it. "Shadowy mans don't make noises," she said. "Shadowy mans like to play." 

"We'll play with you, baby," a youngish looking street kid said, pushing himself off the stoop of an abandoned building. He had friends; four of them. 

Drusilla laughed. "Oh, we like games, don't we, Miss Edith?" 

The five boys surrounded Drusilla. The boy who had spoken first stepped up to her. "You wanna play?" he asked, a drunken leer on his face. 

"What sort of game?" she asked. 

Before he could answer, another boy, one behind her, rushed her and grabbed her around the waist. He had intended to topple her, but she stood firmly. "Impatient, bad, rude!" Drusilla said, swiveling and grabbing the boy by the hair. She threw him away from herself, clutching his hair so hard that chunks of it pulled out of his head even as he flew into the wall of the warehouse across the street. There was a loud snapping sound as his neck broke from the impact. 

"Jesus!" cried one of the other boys, as he started to run. 

Drusilla was faster. "I don't like this game," she said, as she caught the fleeing boy and ripped his neck from his body. "Ah, lovely," she said, as she looked at her bloody hands. She drew her fingers across her mouth and turned, just in time to see the three remaining boys turn the corner onto another street. "Should we give chase, my love?" Drusilla asked her doll, who was stuck in the pocket of her dress. 

"No," a gravely voice echoed around her. 

"It's you, my shadowy man," Drusilla said, as she licked the remaining blood from her fingers. 

"It is," the voice said. 

"Why can't I see you?" asked Drusilla, glancing about herself. 

"Because I do not wish it," said the voice. 

"You're all stones and gravel and pebbles," Drusilla laughed. 

"My voice?" asked the entity. "Ah, yes, I would sound that way to you. It is of no importance. I need something from you, addled one." 

"Can't have her!" yelled Drusilla, clutching Miss Edith tightly to her chest. 

"No, I do not wish your doll, addled one. I require your madness." 

Drusilla felt a sense of warmth envelope her, and realized that she couldn't see. A dark fog had wrapped itself around her, and it was pressing against her. She couldn't move. She realized with a start that she was afraid. 

"Stay away, shadowy man. Stay away!" 

"Do not fear, addled one," the voice soothed. "This will not hurt for long." 

The fog pressed soft clouds against her, through her clothing, and touched her skin. Everywhere, all at once, it felt to Drusilla as if thousands of pins were pricking her, that blood was gushing from every pore. And then she screamed. 

*** 


	2. Addled: The Evening After

Addled: The Evening After Addled: The Evening After 

by 

Aethyl 

Disclaimer: I don't own the characters and I'm not making any money from this story. 

Author's note: This story falls after "Into the Woods" and before "Crush" and "Reunion."   


Lila was sitting on the edge of her desk holding a doll. There was a note attached to the neck of the doll by a bloody piece of string. It read: "I have the vial and the vampire. You may meet me at my abode for receipt of both." 

"Demons. So dramatic," Lila said to the empty air. She placed the doll in her briefcase, and walked out the door. 

*** 

Drusilla woke up. She felt a heaviness in her limbs, and she was hungry. She felt as if she hadn't fed in weeks. And then she remembered the shadows, the pins, and the sensation of blood. She quickly inspected herself and her surroundings. She was no longer wearing her crushed velvet red dress. Instead, she was wearing a light cotton shift, a pristine, white cotton shift; there was no blood. _Did I imagine it_? she asked herself. Looking around, she saw that she was in a candle-lit chamber, sitting up on a plush, four-poster bed with red satin sheets. It was covered in black satin curtains, which were drawn back by intricately tied black cords. Drusilla inhaled deeply, and realized that the cords were soaked in dried blood, which made them appear black. She could detect the faint scent of fear, and knew that the blood, while not particularly fresh, was human. She tried to leave the bed, but encountered an unseen barrier. It pushed gently against her. Angered at finding herself trapped, Drusilla threw herself against the barrier, and was slammed down amongst the pillows for her trouble. 

"Who keeps me here?" Drusilla screamed in frustration. The smell of the blood was maddening her. She was so hungry. 

The sound of gravely laughter emanated from the walls. "I do," said a familiar voice. 

"Demon! Why have you imprisoned me?" Drusilla demanded. "Who are you?" 

"You are merely my temporary guest, clear one," the voice said. "Do not be alarmed." 

"You are the shadow man from before. What have you done to me?" 

"A good question, and one that others will answer for you," the voice said, this time closer to her. A dark fog swarmed over the covers from the floor, solidifying into something approximating the figure of a man in front of her on the bed. 

Drusilla reached a hand into the smog, and gave a startled scream. Her skin felt as though it was being pricked all over, but the sensation dissipated as she withdrew it from the amorphous figure. "What are you? What have you done to me?" 

"Would not a better question be why can you ask such a question?" 

"What do you mean, demon?" Drusilla asked, suspicious. 

"Dear girl, you are yet a demon yourself, but I have restored you to yourself. Have you not noticed?" 

Drusilla stilled. She remembered what the demon had said moments ago; _he called me "clear one." _"I can think straight," she said. "How?" 

The figure solidified further. Drusilla could make out dark features, glittering jet eyes watching her own dark ones. "I tore the veil of confusion from your mind. It is how my kind feeds." 

"You . . . you ate my madness?" Drusilla asked, incredulous, and feeling somewhat violated. "Why?" 

The demon laughed. "You do not care for the idea of being fed from? I can hardly blame you. But there is always something more frightening than you in the dark. You would do well to remember that in the future." 

"The future? Then you will not kill me," Drusilla said, looking thoughtful. Why not? And why have you brought me here?" 

"I was asked to bring you here by my employers. They wish to . . . negotiate with you." 

"Why couldn't they come to me themselves?" 

"You were difficult to find, Drusilla." 

"How do you know my name?" 

"Clear one, I now know everything about you. It is a side effect of feeding." 

Drusilla felt calmer now that she knew the strange shadow demon was not going to kill her, but angry, and somewhat nauseated by the knowledge that it had fed from her. But there was no sense in reacting to her anger until she knew exactly what was happening. "Who employs you?" she asked. 

"Wolfram and Hart." 

"A pair of demons like yourself?" 

"No. A company. A company of lawyers." 

"Lawyers!" Drusilla spat. "Humans! I'll suck the marrow from their bones." 

The shadowy figure began to dissipate, to roll off the bed and over the floor. As it seeped through the stone wall, Drusilla heard its voice, like a grinding echo, say "you would do well to consider their offer before doing anything rash." And then she was alone. 

"I'm hungry," Drusilla whispered to no one. 

*** 

  



	3. Addled: The Hospitality of a Hunter

Addled: The Hospitality of A Hunter Addled: The Hospitality of A Hunter 

by 

Aethyl 

Disclaimer: I don't own this world; Joss Whedon does. Being scrupulous, I would also like to mention that, a long time ago, I read a story by Mercedes Lackey in which she featured a Japanese soul-sucking vampire. That must have been my unconscious inspiration for Drusilla's "shadowy man." I'll post the name of the story in question, if I can find it, in the final chapter. If you know the one I mean, post a review and tell me, please!   


Los Angeles was the perfect hunting ground for a creature that lived half its life as a shadow; the pollution of thousands of cars that hung in the air made discrete travel an easy task. Drusilla's "shadowy man" poured itself through the air, looking for an unsound soul from which to feed, and found such a being in the form of a frightened youth, no more than sixteen, talking to himself behind a decrepit theatre. 

"You there, you shouldn't sleep here. It's not safe for mousies," the boy was telling a rat, as the shadowy figure of a man began to solidify behind him. 

The boy threw trash at the rodent, causing it to scurry off into the darkness, and then settled into his cardboard box, watching the entrance suspiciously. The demon waited until the boy was asleep, and then half-flowed, half-walked over the trash and other waste to block the boy's escape from his shelter. He dissolved into dark particles and enveloped the boy, and then began to feed. 

No one heard the screams. 

*** 

Drusilla heard voices. They seemed to be getting louder. Several people were approaching the heavy wooden door of her chamber. 

"--told you we would take care of it," said an angry male voice. 

"You will not want to begin your meeting until she is sated," said another, deeper voice, and Drusilla knew it was the shadow demon. 

"Holland, perhaps Okugare has a point," a feminine voice said, clearly now. 

"I will not permit blood to be spilled in my home, Mr. Manners. I must live discretely. We do not require your . . . offering. Send it away, and wait for but a moment," the demon said. 

Drusilla could hear the sounds of retreating footsteps, and the sound of something, or someone, being dragged away. She watched the door with interest. There were still two humans at the door; they would be the humans who wanted to meet her. 

The door swung open, making surprisingly little noise, and a dark figure walked toward her. Her shadowy man seemed . . . heavier somehow. He was carrying a cut crystal decanter and a goblet of the same design on a silver tray. The decanter was empty. 

"And how will you feed me with air, Okugare?" Drusilla asked. 

"Only watch, clear one," the demon said. He set the tray on the edge of the bed, removed the stopper from the decanter, and hovered a hand over the opening. His hand seemed to darken and dissolve all at once, and then bright red blood trickled slowly down the sides of the glass. The scent of terror, and of blood hung heavy in the room. Drusilla's nostrils flared. She wanted to rush the tray, but didn't; she had been hungry before. She could wait. 

The demon before her laughed. "Your self-control, like your hearing, is admirable." He withdrew his now reformed hand from the edge of the filled decanter, and poured a goblet of blood. "From one hunter to another," he said, as he handed the goblet to Drusilla. 

Drusilla all but snatched the goblet from her "host." She drank quickly, lapping at the dregs with her tongue, and extended the goblet as a request for more. "That's lovely," Drusilla said. "So fresh. And the scent of terror . . . ." 

"I like a little spice with my meals, as well," said the demon. He allowed Drusilla to drink until the decanter was empty, and then refilled it. He refilled it several times before she was no longer hungry. 

"Thank you," Drusilla said. She indicated the open door with a quizzical nod of her head. 

"You will want to meet my employers now," Okugare said. "Having achieved my task, I will withdraw." He picked up the tray, and walked from the room. Drusilla felt a shimmer in the air, and heard an almost imperceptible pop, as the demon crossed the room's threshold. She noticed that the bloody bespelled cords that had been holding the bed curtains back had lost their stains; they were now as white as the dress she was wearing. Drusilla smiled. "Thank you," she whispered. 

"You are most welcome," a voice echoed on the walls. 

*** 

  



	4. Addled: The Meeting

Addled: The Meeting Addled: The Meeting 

by 

Aethyl 

Disclaimer: I own nothing but my imagination; Joss Whedon created the world. 

Note: The story that inspired the shadow demon is Mercedes Lackey's "Nightside." Further note that I've been spelling Lilah's name incorrectly.   


Drusilla waited on the edge of the bed, feeling more herself after her meal. She was no longer angry at Okugare; he had class. He had fed her and freed her, and she was relieved to know that she could leave the bed at any moment. She was fairly certain that the two humans who were hesitating just over the threshold did not know this, and that was good. The element of surprise was an important tool when hunting. She considered her prey. She could smell them. The woman's scent intrigued her; it was very much like Darla's. _Darla, how I miss you, lovely girl_, thought Drusilla. In the hours she had spent curled up in her satin prison, thoughts of Darla, Angelus, and Spike had plagued her. She missed her family. She was sad that Angelus had lost his nerve, that Spike had lost his edge, that Darla . . . that Darla had died. It would be fun to play with Angel when she finished her business here. He was no longer her Angelus, merely the faded, tortured being who had taken the life of her grandsire, her dominant hunt-mate, her . . . . _Best not think on it_, she thought. In any case, she would definitely need to find Angel and thank him for her loss. Madness had been her refuge from him for so long, the sudden loss of it had freed her in one significant way: Drusilla could remember everything Angelus had ever done to her, when she was mortal and vampire, and she could not wait to revisit those sins on his flesh. As for Spike, her own childe, she would find him after she dealt with the lawyers and Angel. _Spike, my poor, tortured puppy. Mommy will save you_, thought Drusilla. 

An arm reached across the frame of the door, and a man's hand knocked on it. "Drusilla, my name is Holland Manners. May I come in?" 

The man smelled angry, angry and confident. _Interesting_, thought Drusilla. _Let's meet the big dog, then--see how impressive he _really_ is_. 

"Who you got with you, ducks?" she called. 

"My associate, Lilah Morgan." 

_Pretty name_, thought Drusilla, as she quickly untied the cord nearest to her, and drew the bed curtains closed. She looped the white fabric in her hands and stepped into a dark corner of the room, the one closest to the door. "Come in, then." 

Holland stepped into the room and approached the bed, stopping about a foot in front of the end of it. Lilah entered behind him, and stopped just behind his right shoulder. 

"Drusilla?" Holland asked, reaching toward the bed curtain. 

Lilah felt a cord wrap tightly around her neck and cold breath in her ear in the same moment that Holland drew back the curtain on the empty bed. "Holland!" she frantically mouthed. 

Drusilla pressed her nose into Lilah's long brown hair and inhaled deeply. _Peaches. Peaches and cream and fear_, she thought. "Delightful." 

Holland turned to face the vampire, attempting not to show surprise. "I see you've met my associate," he said. 

Lilah gasped as Drusilla released the cord a bit and wrapped one arm around her body. "You were supposed to be . . . secure," she stammered, trying to draw breath. 

Drusilla laughed. "I was, too--but you made Okugare mad, didn't you?" she asked the frightened woman. "You made me mad, too, sendin' a big scary demon to interrupt my dinner the way you did," she snarled into Lilah's hair, pulling her against her own body, fingers stroking the other woman's hip. 

"And I apologize for that, Drusilla," Holland soothed. "I take responsibility for the inconvenience. If you'd allow me to explain . . . ." 

"Explain?" Drusilla snapped. "You can explain sending a demon to hunt _me_, to _feed_ from me?" 

"Perhaps our methods _were_ ill-conceived, Drusilla, but . . . ." 

"Hush!" Drusilla hissed. She ran her tongue up Lilah's neck, and the other woman shuddered--but not completely out of fear. Drusilla allowed the intoxicating taste of terror and arousal to roll over her tongue. _The kitten likes rough treatment_, she thought, pleasantly surprised. She had wanted to rip the throats out of these humans, and then make her escape, but her thoughts now bent in another direction. For all her new-found sanity, Drusilla was still a passionate creature, and passion made her want to stop thinking, stop thinking and act. "I don't wanna talk to you, ducks. I wants to play with the kitten." 

"Holland, no! Don't leave me here with her!" cried Lilah, tears forming in her eyes. She began to struggle, and Drusilla spun her around and slapped her so hard that Lilah's ears rang. 

"Bad girls gets punished," Drusilla told the terrified woman, smoothing Lilah's hair with her free hand, and tightening the cord around her neck until she had just enough air to breath, but not to struggle. 

Holland didn't hesitate. "I would be happy to give you your privacy, Drusilla, provided that you allow Miss Morgan the opportunity to explain our reasons for seeking you out. We are opperating under a time constraint, and . . . ." 

"And I'm still waitin' for you to go away--unless you wants to play, too?" 

"No, thank you," Holland said, as he walked to the door and wrapped his fingers tightly around the handle. "There is some other business that requires my attention. I should mention that this chamber is part of the guest wing of Okugare's residence, Drusilla. It's underground, and it only has one exit. My other associates and I will be waiting there for you _and_ Miss Morgan." 

Drusilla did not answer him. She was too busy drawing her nose along Lilah's quivering neck. 

Holland shut the door. 

*** 

  



End file.
